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This is me, Katiedear, and Kayladear.  Madison took the picture at Lauren and Matty’s wedding reception (epithalamion forthcoming) and Kayla said we looked like we were submerged in tea, and Katie said treacle, perhaps, a treacle-well, therefore, Elsie, Lacy, and Tillie, living on treacle.  And everyone in this picture is certainly very waspish.  (Counting the thinness of arms—nothing else.)  Erin sang Patty Griffin’s “Heavenly Day,” Lauren and Matty were exceedingly dear, and it’s been a wonderful past three days in Nashville.  I’m passing time in the computer lab before I go back down to the English office to see if I can talk to Kenna or Kim or anyone — wait for Dana to get done teaching. 

Let me just get this straight: life is going to be ok.  It just is.  It’s going to be faithful to a straight line, inexplicably, counterintuitively, shockingly.  I’m going to always be surprised by joy, though I’m not referencing the entire sonnet — just that line.  We’re going to have a small group, what I’ve been dying for; I’m going to take the GRE and walk in the direction of school; I’ll have to move out, or I won’t; I’ll get a job this week, or I won’t; I’ll pay bills, or I won’t.  I’ll remember the care of God, or I won’t; either way, it runs underneath and through me and overtop, also, and I’m alive, walking.

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